harry liked draco's hair. he thought he was sexy when it was slicked back. he thought it was beautiful when it was free of gel, just resting by the sides of draco's face. harry thought it was hot when it was wet.
but most of all, he liked it when draco woke up, his hair sticking out everywhere. he liked how draco's eyelids were drooped, the corner of his lip crusted a little with saliva. he liked how, when draco opened his eyes, his irises were all cloudy. he liked how draco's cheekbones glowed in the sunlight. he liked running a finger along draco's sharp jawline. he liked how the natural light reflected off draco's eyelashes that were resting against his pale skin.
but then, as his attention turned on draco's hair, he knew he liked it the most. the mornings were the one time he could witness draco's hair looking mussed. the mornings were the one time he could admire, all by himself, how the sunlight highlighted his hair, turning it golden.
the mornings were the one time he could have draco all to himself.